


Red Rover

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 01:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19162708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Red Rover

Aziraphale had fallen in love nearly immediately. It was his fault, then - he reckoned - when seemingly the rest of creation blamed his falling on Crowley. All forgetting that Crowley had been the one to fall first, and for what? A stumble? Merely curiosity? For questioning?  
It was no secret that Crowley had done more good for humanity, than Aziraphale. Covered up blunders, as misguidance. Maybe. But there were many  _good_ deeds attributed to Crowley, nonetheless. And Aziraphale, blindly getting himself into many situations. Influenced events and important moments, mucked up by his incompetence and subsequently salved over by Crowley.  
  
Crowley.  
Crowley wouldn't have as much freedom in the mortal realm, if not for Aziraphale. Crowley wouldn't have a taste for coffee, or any astronomy book, or his blasted vehicle registration, without Az.  
So where was the angel? In that book shop-ablaze, as Crowley stormed in, heat blistering his skin. A demon could still feel the heat. Yes, astonishing, yet true. Crowley screamed. Searching for that one constant in his life, in vain.  
Friend. The one who always showed up for him. The one who stayed his hand when he begged for the key to his death, to absolution. The one who gave him holy water, regardless.  
Crowley liked fooling Az. Playing tricks, playing as if he didn't care. It was his nature. He thought Az understood. Yet blown back from a blast of fire, laying on his back, Crowley wasn't too sure. At all. He didn't think it a game, not with Armageddon on the line. He just needed to tell Aziraphale that.  
  
Crowley should have up and told Az that he loved him, back at the garden. Come to think of it. Or in France. Or... whenever, really.  
  
Ugly truth was, Crowley was scared. Of Armageddon. Of Az. Of rejection. Of the all of it. But not as scared as he was when Az didn't respond, as he searched that burning book shop.  
  
  
Knee-deep in cinders, with tears stained on his red cheeks, slit eyes still hidden by aviators, there was Crowley. #1 Wanted from Hell, but it wouldn't matter even if the town nearest to him knew. They'd help him regardless. After all, the world wasn't over. At least not just yet. So as long as Crowley could stand, he did so.  
  
With swagger, and with an attitude, Crowley rose and sauntered out of the rubble of the bookshop he'd been in. "You lot, what are you staring at?" he demanded at the gathered crowd, before he half collapsed onto his car. Sliding in with a bit of effort, he took a deeper breath.  
  
"I almost feared you wouldn't make it." Came an irritatingly familiar voice.  
  
Crowley turned his head and met those hazel eyes and that holier-than-thou stare. That face which he knew too well, besides. From millennia of searching it, for an answer. Any answer. Either acceptance or the awaited rejection. At the brink of the End, Crowley almost even felt rage. That the angel couldn't make up his mind, even then.  
  
But then Aziraphale smiled. A small, subtle thing. And his lips parted, and he said shyly, "I believe there is a human game? It's... now it's not important but, with everything coming down, I thought...."  
  
And Crowley deceptively groaned, "get on with it."  
   
"Yes, well," Az continued. "What I mean is, there's... well. Red rover, red rover? You know?"  
  
Red Rover? That old game? Crowley internally scoffed. "Yes," he drawled instead, "I know that one."

Aziraphale was full of nerves. With the whole planet crumbling down. But he figured, in for a penny. In for a pound. And he couldn't leave Crowley there, standing on crumbling ground. "Well, well shut up!" He stuttered. "It's my turn! So." And with a burst of confidence he didn't feel, Az said. "Red rover, red rover, send Crowley right over... to me." And the angel watched as a white light enveloped his oldest friend. Crowley protesting all the way, that he didn't want back his angelic light (it was far too bright) or his wings (they itched) or his angelic power (too... something)  
  
But when the light faded, there was Crowley the angel, anyway. And Azriaphale. Daring to hope for a hug.  
  
Instead, Crowley just opened his mouth (once, twice) and said, "I'm going to make you regret this!" And lunged.


End file.
